The weather here on the northeast has been absolutely dreadful. We got slammed with snow... beyond belief. Even by New England standards it was massive. I suppose it was finally our time this year. In any event, there was one particular afternoon due to piss poor plowing efforts I found myself needing the services of the Yellow Cab Company. A day where I couldn't fathom traveling via public transportation and just needed to get to where I needed to go, without standing out in the frigid air. I just was not in the mood. The snow accumulation was overwhelming and trudging through it proved to be an annoying hindrance to my mobility as it was.

This time around, a yellow van bearing the YELLOW CAB logo, rumbled in front of me. A larger vehicle seemed very fitting considering the elements. I hopped in, grateful to be out of the cold and in spite of the strong smell of onions and spicy ground meat. I reiterated my destination to the driver. He turned around, mouth full of Jamaican beef patty... orange, flaky crust crumbs in the corners of his mouth and said, "I'll take you wherever you need to go!" Suddenly, recognition crossed his face... "I remember you! Yup! Remember I dropped you off someplace, umm... where was it... I remember because I recall you getting called at the last minute, to go there for a meeting... at the um... Where was it??" 

I frowned, perplexed, because I had no recollection as to who he was... when suddenly I got hit with a horrible dose of recollection... I groaned inaudibly... for dear Goddess it was Eubanks!!! Keeper of lucrative corporate secrets. I rolled my eyes and hurriedly scrambled to put on my large, dark shades... hoping to mask the dismay in my eyes (I like a relatively silent ride). 

"Oh. Right." I said dryly. 

Eubanks immediately started in on the opaque, round-about theories and rhetoric... picking up where he left off from before. 

"Yes, I remember you said you were a writer..." he continued. 

"Um, yeah... right" I answered reluctantly. 

"Yeah, because I have all of these ideas, but I don't really know how to reach the people at the top!" He said... gobbling the last of his Jamaican beef patty. My stomach grumbled as he crumpled the wax paper sleeve in his hand... 

"I need a sweet, nice woman... with a good manner about her... to write letters for me and make phone calls for me. I need someone who can get passed the secretaries, because I can't ever seem to get beyond that point!" 

"Hmm. Interesting." I answered ... disinterested and not up to the task. 

"Well... I need... Well, I don't like to tell too much of my business and plans. I'm not sure if you're like me. And I don't want to give too much away, especially to them CEO's, because that's how they make their money... that's how they get rich. Know what I mean?" Eubanks said. 

"Right. They steal ideas." I answered half-heartedly. 

"Right!" He exclaimed. "What I need is a nice young woman, with a sweet voice, who can talk her way passed the secretaries and appeal to the CEO's. I don't want to reveal too much because the ideas I have could make you millions." 

I sighed, then suggested, "Yes. It's best that you don't reveal any of this stuff to me. I don't know a thing about how corporate America works... or even how to navigate it. I've been working for non-profits for most of my work history. So go ahead and keep it to yourself... Ummm... what route are you taking exactly? This ride seems awful longer than necessary." 

"Yes, but you can write, and you seem like you can sweet talk your way with CEO's. I need someone to write letters..." 

I interrupted Eubanks, and reminded him... once more that I know virtually nothing about CEO types... "I'm really not that sweet." I said emphatically. I'm guessing the same, dry monotone I speak in most of the time was lost on him. 

"OK, I'll tell you the companies specifically trying to reach... You know, I'm not just a cab driver. I hold a lot of secrets and info..." He continued on with his proposal...

"Right." I answered. Unfazed. 

"The two companies I'm interested in cracking are Chrysler and American Airlines." 

"Hm. Never heard of those places. Don't ring a bell. Sorry." I lied.

"Information is not free nowadays." Eubanks just kept proposing... emphatically... "You have to pay for information these days." 

"Google costs nothing. I'll be if you punched the name of those foreign sounding companies, I've never heard of in my life, you'd find contact info." I shot back.

"Yeah. Right." Eubanks answered. 

The rest of the ride was silent. I arrived at my destination... and thrust cash at him, and scrambled out... 

"What time you coming out of that building?" Eubanks asked.

"I'll probably be there all day and late into the evening." I lied. 

"You sure you don't need me to drive around another way? You're the Queen of Sheba. You call the shots." 

Without hesitation I answered, "Nope," and got out... but not before Eubanks handed me a small stack of YELLOW CAB cards...

"Call me if you get out early." 

I accepted the cards... but not before letting a couple of them flutter inconspicuously to the floor of the cab. 

I have a feeling this Eubanks chapter is to be continued...